


Scoring

by cupidmarwani



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alex on the USWNT, F/F, French, Olivia and Carmen are on the France WNT, Porn With Plot, Smut, Threesome, established olivia/carmen, the world cup!!! yeehaw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-02 10:16:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19196803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupidmarwani/pseuds/cupidmarwani
Summary: Alex thinks two women on the French team are hot. Luckily they think the same.





	Scoring

Alex has worked hard to get where she is. She’s been playing soccer since she was a little girl, made a career out of it, and now made the U.S. team in the world cup. She doesn’t speak much French- only knowing how to say hello, goodbye, please, thank you, and do you speak English- but that doesn’t put a damper on where she is and the teammates she’s with. Their white jerseys mark them as a beacon of hope on the huge field. Something to focus on other than the screaming crowd and the announcements that are in French slightly more often than they aren’t. 

It’s during half-time that she first takes a real look at the other time. They’ve been relegated to blobs of navy blue, but now she can see their faces. Two of the players nearest to her, Benson and Noble, are talking between sips of water, getting refreshed before they speak to their coach. They stand close to each other, touching, faces inches away. Noble takes Benson’s hair down and scrapes it into a neater ponytail with her fingers before wiping them on Benso8n’s jersey with a laugh. They seem happy.

“Venez!” The French coach yells, and the two women jog over. Alex thinks she sees their hands interlock. She doesn’t have something like that, but she wants to. “Vous dépêchez-vous! Benson! Noble! Vite!”

At the same time, the American coach demands Alex’s attention and she’s forced to turn her attention away. They’re talking about substitutions, about how to play the second half of the game and better counter the French team, but all she can think about are Benson and Noble, whose faces she’s seen on some posters and advertisements, she thinks. Benson likes to show off. She likes fancy kicks and keeping the ball under her control. But Noble, Noble is a defender. She’s not one to score, but she can kick like hell. Pied de Mine, she was called in an interview once. It means foot of lead, or something like that. Makes sense, as far as Alex is concerned.

For the entire rest of the game, as Alex crouches on her knees more often than she doesn’t and watches the action at the other end of the field, her attention is on Benson and Noble. They work well together, she notices. Pass back and forth more to each other than to the other players, get the ball moving faster and faster.

Of course, at some point, Noble gets control of the ball and the next thing Alex knows, she’s in the action. She lifts a knee to get it under control before it spins down, and gets ready to pass it to Novak at her left to avoid the swarm of navy headed right for them. Before she gets the chance, Benson is right there and Alex is kicking the ball back behind her ankles and trying to protect it until she gets a free chance to pass, weaving between the French players and keeping the ball close like a mother hen guards her egg. 

Then she messes up.

Alex overestimates the room she has, and suddenly she’s in the air, and then on her back, and her head smacks against the turf. Jesus. Her chest aches a little and so do her legs, where she must’ve crashed into someone. A whistle from the ref halts the game just as Alex opens her eyes to, of course, Benson.

“Mademoiselle? Vous etes bien?”

Alex pushes herself into a sitting position. “I… English?”

Benson’s face screws up for a moment. In a heavy accent, she asks, “You are okay, miss?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I’m fine.”

She gives a thumbs up to the referee and allows Benson to help Alex back to her feet. Her head is a little pained, but she can work through the last twenty minutes of the game just fine, thank you.

For the rest of the match, nothing eventful happens. The score remains 1-1, Alex doesn’t collide with anyone else, and there aren’t any penal shots or cards. It ends a tie, and then there are interviewers coming onto the field to wave microphones in everyone’s face. One of the midfielders for the American team is talking to someone, but Alex is still watching Benson and Noble. Noble is on Benson’s shoulders now, yelling and laughing. They look happy.

Alex takes her jersey off and heads to the sidelines for some water and a towel. She needs a shower, some dinner, and an HBO documentary to fall asleep to afterwards. First thing in the morning, she’ll head to the gym with Novak and Rollins, and then they’ll likely do a little bit of sightseeing since their next match isn’t for a few days.

“Ey!”

Benson is carrying Noble over on her shoulders, occasionally pressing small kisses to the inside of her knee. “Bon jeu, bon jeu, bon jeu,” Benson repeats to every American player they pass.

“Est-ce que votre équipe va manger ensemble ce soir?” Noble asks, only for Benson to squeeze her leg. “J’suis désolée, mon dieu, Olivia! Miss, is it that your team eats together tonight?”

“Yeah, we’re having team dinner.”

A moment later, Noble nods. “Ouais, we are too. After, if you have not more plans, we would like to buy you drinks? As sorry for knocking you down.”

“Okay. We’re in Reims, so if you know a good bar?”

“Vingt et un heure?” Noble says softly to Benson. 

“Bien.”

“At twenty one hours- that is nine for you? Nine? We will come to see you and take you for drinking.”

**\------**

Someone knocks on the door of Alex’s hotel room at exactly nine pm. She ate dinner with her team, got ribbed by Novak about Noble and Benson flirting, and had a nice shower to get rid of the sweat and dirt from the game. She’d like to think she’s dressed nicely. Jeans and her favorite button down, white with little sharks in various colors. She’s even got her converse on for a pop of red. She thinks she looks good when she opens the door to Benson and Noble, both dressed down in tee shirts and their team jackets. They look beautiful, though, like the sort of women Alex would flirt with in a bar back home, although they’re obviously holding hands now.

“J’t’ai dit, non?” Benson says softly. “C’est quoi son nom? Lui demandes.”

“You can say Carmen,” Noble says, pointing to herself, “and Olivia. You call yourself what?”

“Alex.”

Carmen smiles. “Alex. Follow, we will take you to the bar.”

As soon as Alex locks her hotel door and slips her key card back into her pocket, Olivia grabs one of her hands and interlocks their fingers like hers and Carmen’s, and the three of them head toward the elevators. They’re probably going to stay in the hotel bar, Alex thinks, and is proved correct when they take their place at a little mahogany table and Olivia goes up to the bar to get drinks.

“How long have you played?” Carmen asks. She has a beautiful smile. Alex can’t stop looking at it? “We played from the time we were small.”

“I started in fourth grade. I must’ve been…” Alex counts back, “nine? Ten?”

Olivia comes back. “Un champagne pour moi.” She sets a glass of bubbly on the table. “Un pour toi.” She gives one to Carmen. “Et un pour vous, la belle.”

“Use your English,” Carmen teases. “On l’amuse, ouais?”

Pouting, Olivia sits beside Alex and presses their bodies close enough that Alex can feel the warmth radiating off her, count the little freckles on her nose and cheeks. Olivia looks like sunshine, but Carmen looks like the moon. Between the two of them, they make a good pair.

“I must be sorry. My English is not very well.”

Alex waves a hand. “It’s no problem. Did you two grow up together?”

“Non.” Carmen laughs. “I was growing up in Clichy, Olivia in the- septiѐme, mon p’tit chou? She was growing up in the seven neighborhood. That is the one with the Eiffel Tower.”

“We met playing football. We played not the same team for club, but for national, yes. She kissed me the first time at last world cup.” Alex opens her mouth to respond, but gets distracted watching Olivia down her champagne like a shot and lean forward over the table with her forearms pressed together. Alex very pointedly doesn’t look. “It makes nice to talk, but we came here because I want to touch your… English word, Carmen? How do they call it? Son minou?”

Whatever she said, it was vulgar. Alex knows that much from context, and from the way Carmen nearly chokes on her drink.

“Trop vite, Olivia! On a dit qu’on lui parle premiere, et lui demande s’il fait bien.”

Olivia laughs and presses a kiss to Carmen’s cheek. “Alex, you are a lovely woman. I would love to get to know you actually. But what I want more than that right now, is that I want you to sit yourself above my face.”

“Olivia!”

If she could see her reflection, Alex is sure she would be blushing. “I, uh, yes?”

There’s a self-satisfied smirk on Olivia’s face. “Is it that your room at the hotel is well?”

“Yeah.”

Olivia stands up, pulls Carmen to her feet as well, and looks to Alex with that same, smug, not quite smile on her face that suggests mischief. She’s like a fairy, a sprite, full of mischief and promises.

They all walk back to Alex’s hotel together, Olivia standing between Carmen and Alex holding each of their hands, swinging them back and forth childishly in a stark contrast to what they’re about to do. Alex can’t wait to see what happens, even if she obviously knows the basics, because she’s never actually done anything with more than one person at once. Definitely not with someone as confident as Olivia seems to be, even with the language barrier.

In the elevator on the way up to Alex’s room, Olivia starts kissing her. Her lips are soft, her teeth sharp when they needle against her bottom lip. Carmen’s lips are soft too, but her kisses even more so when they start along Alex’s throat. The whole ride up feels like she’s floating. She’s caught, trapped between two angels. In heaven.

Carmen slips Alex’s key card out of her back pocket and opens the door for them, before tossing the piece of plastic off somewhere irritating Alex will struggle to find in the morning. It doesn’t matter right now.

“L’aides se déshabiller,” Olivia breathes against Alex’s lips.

Then Carmen is pushing against Alex’s hips and she stumbles back until her knees hit the mattress. She starts tugging at Alex’s slacks while Olivia’s fingers start undoing the buttons on her shirt. Warm hands slide up her back afterward, unclasp her bra. Everything is warm, hot even, as Olivia feels her chest. It’s not quite clinical, but it’s exploratory, more practiced than emotional. Something about that makes it more intense. 

As soon as she’s undressed, Olivia spins her around and lets herself fall back on the bed. Carmen’s behind her, urging her to move up, up, until her thighs bracket Olivia’s face. Slightly freckled hands grab on to take control just as a wet tongue presses itself between Alex’s folds. Carmen presses up against her from behind and gets her hands on Alex’s breasts as well. She’s an expert at it too, but in a different kind of way. She touches slow and careful, rubs the rough pad of her thumbs over pink nipples.

“Vous l’aimez? Sa langue à votre chatte? Elle est douée, non?”

“I don’t- ah- I don’t speak French.”

Carmen laughs in her ear and it sounds the way honey tastes. “Just enjoy, hmm? Olivia is so good at what she does.”

Exactly alongside those words, Olivia gets around to more precise, deadly kitten licks against her clit. It’s been too long, probably, since Alex was touched by something other than her own fingers  or the little pink vibe that she has stowed in her suitcase. That had been fun to explain at customs, but it’s easier than stumbling through being a celebrity buying a sex toy in a foreign country.

“You must taste so good for Olivia. She tastes good, mon p’tit chou?”

Olivia moans enthusiastically, and it feels better than any toy ever could. This has to be a dream, Alex thinks, for two gorgeous women to be so invested in making her feel like she’s on cloud nine. Fuck. She’s resisting the urge to pull Olivia’s hair, because it’s not polite. Alex would like to believe she’s a gentlewoman, and a good bedfellow. Does anyone say that anymore?  She doesn’t get the chance to think about that very much, because Carmen grabs her by the hips and pulls her back, giving them both a beautiful look at the wetness dripping off Olivia’s face.

“Doux. Mon coeur, tu veux la goûter?”

Alex is momentarily nudged aside for Carmen and Olivia to kiss, Olivia obviously pushing her tongue into the other woman’s mouth, and she really doesn’t mind just watching for a moment. They know each other’s mouths, each other’s bodies. They’re so tender together. Alex could spend an eternity watching them kiss, but gets distracted by Carmen’s hand trailing down Olivia’s stomach and slipping beneath the waistband of their jeans. They need to get undressed too.

When they part for Olivia to whine desperately, Alex takes the opportunity to grab at the cuffs of Olivia’s jeans and start tugging the denim off her toned legs. They’re so long. Up high, nestled against the crook of Olivia’s hips, are bruises in various stages of healing, but all clearly dark and possessive and clearly the work of Carmen’s patience when she gets her lips around a piece of delicate skin.

“Off,” Olivia commands, managing to make brief eye contact with Alex as she loops a finger in the waistband of Carmen’s jeans. 

Alex gets the message, and fumbles with the button. It’ll be impossible to strip them off completely in the position Carmen currently holds, but she gets them down her hips and halfway toward her knees, boxers included. It’s not surprising that she wears them instead of normal underwear- most of the players do. These are more comfortable and practical than a strip of cotton, or God forbid, lace. 

“You heard her. Off, c’mon, off.”

With another soft, warming laugh, Carmen stands up long enough to finish stripping herself and rip her tee shirt off her bed. She sticks her tongue out at Olivia’s subsequent whine for the sudden lack of stimulation to her clit. Then Carmen gets Olivia’s torso naked, and by then, all of them are on an even footing with nothing to hide and everything to give.

This time, it’s Alex who Carmen reaches for. She kisses her like they’re more than just two women who met today and fell into bed with the help of a third, one who’s pretty damn good at eating pussy. Jesus Christ. Carmen’s fingers that had felt so nice on her nipples not too long ago find their way between Alex’s legs to rub up against her clit for a moment before moving lower. Two slender fingers push their way into her at an angle which allows for Alex to grind forward against the heel of her hand.

“Ey- vous pouvez pas me laisser! Vennez,” Olivia whines, making Carmen laugh before bringing herself and Alex back onto the mattress to all lay together. Olivia curls up warmly against Alex’s back and touches her too, back to tracing circles around her clit while Carmen fingers her slowly. She’s going to be covered in marks from her collarbones to her hips, and she doesn’t mind in the slightest. 

“Do you want me to- to touch-”

“Shh,” Olivia breathes against her shoulder, barely audible. “Let us to take care of you. I told Carmen, I told her, I should take ma pine. I want to make you to feel good.”

“What?”

Carmen curls her fingers against Alex’s g-spot. “In English, it calls herself a strap? On the internet, that is what they say to me. They want my strap.”

“Jesus.”

“Non, Olivia et Carmen.”

Now all she can think about is Olivia grabbing her thighs and fucking her deep and long while Carmen whispers more filthy words in her ear, mostly in French, which sounds so much hotter than it has any right to be. It must be her tone of voice. 

Alex knows she’ll have to ask them for the chance to get fucked even deeper than she already is the second she gets the chance.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr is also @beelivia
> 
>  
> 
> [ Translations ](https://beelivia.tumblr.com/post/185555460000/translations-scoring)


End file.
